


tinsel

by mssjynx



Series: 2016 dec. requests [5]
Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Tree, Fluff, M/M, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 19:03:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13642539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssjynx/pseuds/mssjynx
Summary: prompt: "fluffy basicallyidomoo fic about the two of them decorating the christmas tree"craig leaves his roommate, brock, alone to put up the christmas tree for the day. with the company of a spider and a bowl of cereal, brock's pretty much given up until marcel is called in by the british roommate in hopes of getting the job done.





	tinsel

**Author's Note:**

> basicallyidomoo fic - [ fluff request ]  
> warnings: xmas fluff.  
> 3002 words  
> \- @it-vaniss request! -  
> ..  
> chinxino5.tumblr.com

Craig had left to get Christmas crackers at ten a.m., leaving Brock with the simple instructions of setting up their tree and decorating. It was a pretty straight forward task, there wasn’t much that could go wrong.

Except that it was one o’clock and all he’d managed was to make space for the massive fake tree and open the attic door.

“‘Decorate the tree’ he said. ‘I’ll only be gone for an hour’ he said... dickhead.”

He found himself laying at the bottom of the ladder, glaring at the gaping hole of death and humidity that was their roof. He’d hauled himself up there two hours ago only to half clamber, half fall, back down when he encountered the biggest spider he’d ever seen waiting for him.

So instead of trying to figure out a way to get around the beast guarding the gates of Hell and retrieve the dusty boxes, he snacked on cereal and cursed his roommate from the carpet.

The angry message he’d sent to Craig had a response of several laughing emojis and a stupid gif. Obviously with no solution available, he shuffled back to lean against the wall and grumbled into his empty bowl.

“Stupid Craig with his stupid gifs and stupid emojis,” he muttered. After several long moments of nothing new or life-changing appearing to help him, he stood reluctantly and placed his bowl to the side, his determined glare settling once again on the opening of his attic. Taking a deep breath in, he placed one foot on the first rung. The moment he lifted his other off the carpet their obnoxiously loud doorbell rang through the leisure room and he jumped in alarm, foot slipping and sending back him to the floor.

He groaned, whimpering into the carpet with his hands on his throbbing hip. He was not motivated in the slightest to get up and answer whoever chose to interrupt him at that moment. If they knew him well enough to know the door was almost always unlocked they would let themselves in.

Sure enough, a few seconds later his door clicked open and footsteps could be heard walking down the hall. “Brocky?” _Of course he called Marcel…_ “Craig told me you needed-” His words cut short as he glanced into the room, seeing the mess of limbs that was the exhausted Brock. “... help.” The little chuckle had Brock lifting his head from the carpet to glare up at the man leaning against the frame of the doorway.

“I hate Craig,” was all he said before huffing and allowing his face to return to the carpet. Marcel laughed again but didn’t say anything more. Brock half listened as he walked away and returned a few minutes later.

“You can hate Craig when we’ve got this tree set up and decorated. C’mon, I came over here to help you, not do it for you.” His words were playful and teasing as he nudged the man with his foot. Music played from the speaker in his hand and Brock slowly pulled himself up using the ladder beside him. He caught Marcel’s lopsided smile and rolled his eyes at the overly cheerful Christmas song that played from the little blue cylinder.

“Don’t have plans for Christmas Eve?” Brock asked, brushing himself off lightly and touching his hip tenderly. It was probably gonna bruise and he knew he’d be blaming Craig completely.

The other man shrugged, smile still on his face. “So far, my plans are to help some idiot put up his Christmas tree because he can’t do it by himself.” Brock huffed, shoving the other gently as he laughed at his own teasing. “Which brings me to my question: why haven’t you even gotten the box down yet?”

Marcel followed him as he trudged to the kitchen and put his bowl in the dishwasher. “There’s a massive spider up there guarding it and I don’t care what anyone thinks of me. I’m _not_ going back up there. That thing is hungry for my face, I swear.”

He didn’t expect anything less from his close friend as he snorted into the back of his hand and threw his head back with high-pitched laughter. It came out more as a giggle than a proper laugh as he tried unsuccessfully to contain his amusement. Brock shook his head when he found his lips twitching into a smile. Marcel’s laugh had a child-like feeling to it and anyone who knew him could agree that it was highly infectious.

It was one of Brock’s favourite things about his friend.

“It’s not funny!” he scolded, kicking his friend lightly as they found themselves beneath the gaping hole in the roof once again. Marcel placed the speaker down, still giggling. Brock crooked his index fingers and brought them to the sides of his mouth. “It had these big fangs and its body had these dark red bits. Its legs were so long Marcel, it’s plotting my death right now – it can’t _wait_ to kill me.”

Marcel raised his brow, desperately trying not to laugh or grin at the silliness of his friend. He just shook his head and put both hands on the ladder, one foot on the first rung.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, Brocky, I’ll go face the terrifying beast for you,” he cooed, his voice gentle and condescending. Brock frowned, trying not to pout as he tried to look more annoyed than he was.

He watched Marcel scale the ladder, taking his time peaking up into the attic as he deliberately shook his knees and arms in ‘fear’. He huffed and folded his arms. “Yeah, yeah, get on with it then, Prince Charming,” he scoffed and Marcel paused to throw and cheeky grin back down at him. The accompanied wink had Brock’s cheeks flushing as he turned away.

He jumped in alarm as his friend shrieked, standing on the wooden support beams above with only one leg visible. “Brock, the spider’s gonna get me!” Brock’s concern dropped.

“Shut up!” he snapped, hearing the wicked laughter from above as Marcel took a few seconds to get out all of his giggling.

“It’s so tiny,” he squeaked, howling with laughter from the dark, humid space above. “It’s smaller than my big toe!”

Brock’s face burned with embarrassment. “It’s not that small,” he mumbled to himself, flushing even darker as the laughter raised a pitch. “Marcel!” His whining had the laughter dying to giggling, dying to little snorts and huffs here and there. “Hurry up and get the box so we can start setting it up.”

He walked from the room, fanning at his face with one hand. He sent Craig another angry message, including a retelling of Marcel’s teasing. Receiving the response of “suck his dick, it might help”, he left his roommate unanswered and threw his phone onto the cough. He cleared out more space for the tree and tidied the rest of the house for decorating.

After another few minutes he returned to the leisure room at the call of his name. Marcel slowly handed heavy boxes down to him, the cardboard sagging under the weight of plastic branches and dozens of ornaments. Brock offered a hand to help the other balance as he got his feet back on the ground and smiled smugly at the man’s rosy cheeks and heaving chest. His forehead glistened with sweat.

“Maybe if you hadn’t spent an extra five minutes up there giggling your ass off you wouldn’t have ended up so overheated.” He handed his sour words to the other with a glass of icy water, the liquid drained in seconds.

Marcel relished in the cool temperature of the room, grinning through his heavy breaths. The playful smile had Brock turning to the box that held all the tree parts. He knew the teasing words would follow him as he dragged it from the room and pretended Marcel wasn’t there. “I thought it was pretty funny, y’know. Your little spider friend up there was giggling with me, you just couldn’t hear him.” The smirk in his words had Brock throwing an unamused look over his shoulder, Marcel’s eyes twinkling above the box in his arms. “Such a small spider only has a little laugh,” he added and Brock threw his head back with an exaggerated groan.

“Let it die,” he whined, reaching the corner of the main room where he planned to set up the tree.

“I’ll think about it.”

He took the glass from the top of Marcel’s box as the other turned to get the last from the living room. Brock refilled the cup and poured one of his own before opening the biggest of the three boxes. The plastic green leaves pricked at his fingers as he pulled out the base and fake trunk of the tree.

Marcel crouched down beside him, helping slot the parts together with a grin. “Watch out for big spiders in the box, Brocky.”

Brock huffed. “Really?” he asked, forcing down his smile at the high-pitched laughter from his friend. With a small giggle of his own, he grabbed one of the branches and pointed it at Marcel. “Why don’t you _leaf_ me alone?” He couldn’t stop the smile from breaking out across his own face as Marcel’s dropped.

“Have fun doing this by yourself.” He dropped the branch in his hand, walking towards the hall and shaking his head.

Giggles became laughter as Brock scrambled over one of the boxes so he was close enough to grab Marcel’s shirt sleeve. “I’m sorry!” he forced out, bending at the middle as his laugh faded to a breathless wheeze. “I had to.” Marcel was smiling slightly at him when he stood upright again, one brow quirked in disapproval.

“No you didn’t,” he corrected, brushing the hand away and bending down to open the other two boxes. “You get that tree up, I’ll put some stuff up around the room – we’ll do the tree décor after,” he instructed.

Brock pressed his lips together, making sure to move out of reach as he started popping the branches into place at the base of the tree. He threw a daring look over his shoulder. “Don’t worry Marcel, I’ll be done in _tree_ seconds flat.” He bit down on his tongue to stop his laughter. Marcel raised his head, deadpan expression. A bauble hit him on the head and he squeaked, laughter slipping from his lips.

“You’re an idiot,” was the only response he received and he snickered in satisfaction.

“You love it.” He missed Marcel’s little smile that accompanied his rolling eyes.

Brock hummed along to the Christmas music as he worked, locking each branch in on each level of the tree. The smile on his face didn’t change much as the fake tree took shape and began to look fatter and better. Though it was still bare and not so Christmas-y, it looked like a tree and that was the start.

He was almost constantly aware of Marcel’s whereabouts, the other singing along as he hung tinsel over the small chandelier and draped it over the curtain rails. He put wreaths up on the two doors facing into the main room. Halfway through his job, a broom brushed at Brock’s foot, curious eyes looking up to see Marcel closely inspecting the tree.

“Looking good, Brocky – made any eight-legged friends?” His inquiry had a branch swatting at the top of his head and Brock stepped away to allow the whistling man to sweep under and around his tree for all the little fake leaves that had fallen off.

When Brock announced he was finished, Marcel wandered back in from where he’d disappeared to the leisure room. He had a makeshift tinsel scarf and a pair of flashing green and red glasses he’d found somewhere. The look in Brock’s eyes showed he was less than impressed but his smirk contradicted him no matter how hard he tried to fight it down.

“Let’s get this bitch dressed up, baby.” The enthusiastic cry from Marcel, paired with his energetic fist pump, had Brock pushing a bundle of tangled tinsel into his arms.

His smile was sweet. “Get untangling!”

Marcel had never looked more like a kicked puppy. The excitement in his eyes vanished as though Brock had poured a glass of water over his head and he disappointedly sat down on the floor with the mess of gold, red and silver on his lap. Surprisingly enough, three long strands of tinsel were laid out on the floor, separated, in just over five minutes. Long enough for Brock to have put the lights around the tree. Just as he finished adjusting the spiral, a loose length of gold was looped over his head and pulled tight around his waist.

He protested through his laughter as his arms were pinned to his sides, the big golden bow tied at his back locking his elbows down so he could only raise his forearms.

“I don’t want to break it.” His whine did nothing more than make Marcel laugh, a cheeky grin on his face as he wound the red tinsel in a wide spiral around the tree.

“Then don’t, stupid. I’ll do the tinsel and you can decorate the lower part of the tree!” His voice peaked as though his idea was far more brilliant than it actually was though the frown on Brock’s face refused to stay, too easily replaced with his giggling smile. 

Still, he accepted the challenge and once all the tinsel was in place he awkwardly shuffled from the box to the tree and back, collecting baubles and hanging them on the ends of branches. Marcel danced around him, grinning at Brock’s concentrated expression with his tongue peaking through his lips as he pushed his hip into the branches to allow his hands to reach the places missing ornaments.

Occasionally Marcel would stop to watch him struggle but he refused to ask for any help as he made his way around the bottom half of the tree. The other man filled any spaces he couldn’t reach and handed him ornaments he couldn’t get low enough to fetch, humming through all the silly Christmas songs Brock listened to in his car any time he left the house.

The whoop of excitement made the tied man jump in surprise as Marcel’s face lit up. The source of his excitement became clear as Mariah Carey began to play from his speaker.

“Oh God,” slipped from his mouth as Marcel began singing and dancing dramatically around the tree. He grabbed Brock’s hands halfway through the song, spinning him around as he struggled to keep his arms against his body. His giggly words weren’t exactly coherent but he loved the beam on Marcel’s face. When he was released he just listened as he continued filling out the last of the tree.

Something plastic slid onto his head, a headband of sorts fitting tightly behind his ears. He spun around, confused, feeling whatever was sitting above his head swing around after him to hang between Marcel and him. The proximity was unexpectedly close and his eyes went wide as his friend intertwined their fingers and leaned in. The lips on his were careful. They only stayed for a second or two, Brock realising after a breath that he should probably close his eyes. When the pressure on his lips vanished, too brief for the tied-up man to even respond, the hands slipped out of his and his eyes blinked back open.

The question on his tongue was trapped behind his lips as he blushed bright red and looked up. The headband on his head had a small wire stand that curved forward to hand a sprig of mistletoe just above and in front of the wearer. His pale cheeks burnt even darker and he shook his head and bent down, flinging the accessory off his head.

 _Fucking Craig_ , he thought to himself, turning back to the tree and shuffling around the other side to adjust tinsel and baubles where Marcel couldn’t see his bright red face. His roommate just had to own something as stupid as that.

“All I want for Christmas is you.” The soft singing had lost its silliness as the song came to a gradual end. No matter how hard Brock tried to convince himself that it was just a joke or a silly play Marcel could laugh at, those seven words burnt themselves to the inside of his lung and his heart slammed against his ribs.

When he returned to Marcel’s side of the tree, his face had somewhat cooled but the effort it took to look up at his friend was heavy in his chest. He wasn’t expecting soft curious brown eyes and a little smile. He wasn’t expecting the other to address what he’d done at all.

“Sorry, I probably shouldn’t ha-,”

“Don’t be,” Brock cut in, clamping a hand over his mouth instantly as his face began to reheat. With Marcel’s patient eyes on him he didn’t have an excuse to move back out of sight and instead focused his eyes on the almost empty box of baubles. His hand fell away. “I’m not, er, upset or anything. You don’t have to be sorry.”

The little smile on Marcel’s face grew as he stepped closer, spinning Brock around by his shoulders. The tinsel fell away with one tug and when Brock turned back around the same pair of lips ghosted his cheekbone.

“Good to know.” The cheeky words allowed a smile onto Brock’s face again. A flustered smile, but a smile all the same. Marcel just laughed at Brock’s rosy cheeks, closing up the boxes and flicking on the power-board. Both of them wore toothy grins as the tree glimmered and glowed with colour, baubles reflecting light and the tinsel sparkling.

“Looks perfect.”

Marcel stepped up beside him, slipping an arm around his waist and pressing his lips to his temple. “It is perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> 5 of 12 fic requests! hope you enjoy, let me know what you think, let me know what you want more of!


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